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The Bridge

by
 In his travels he comes to a bridge made entirely of bones.
Before crossing he writes a letter to his mother: Dear mother, guess what? the ape accidentally bit off one of his hands while eating a banana.
Just now I am at the foot of a bone bridge.
I shall be crossing it shortly.
I don't know if I shall find hills and valleys made of flesh on the other side, or simply constant night, villages of sleep.
The ape is scolding me for not teaching him better.
I am letting him wear my pith helmet for consolation.
The bridge looks like one of those skeletal reconstructions of a huge dinosaur one sees in a museum.
The ape is looking at the stump of his wrist and scolding me again.
I offer him another banana and he gets very furious, as though I'd insulted him.
Tomorrow we cross the bridge.
I'll write to you from the other side if I can; if not, look for a sign .
.
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